


I love you more than yesterday (and less than tomorrow)

by tinystreetlamp



Category: Carol (2015)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Embedded Images, F/F, I love these two with my whole heart, Photography, Post-Canon, Yuletide, hand holding, kisses on each others fingers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:34:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28013250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinystreetlamp/pseuds/tinystreetlamp
Summary: Therese’s eyes fluttered close. For a moment she lost herself in the feeling of warm lips on her fingers, Carol’s familiar hands in hers. “I love you,” she whispered, careful to not break their quiet bubble.Set about a year after they met.
Relationships: Carol Aird/Therese Belivet
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	I love you more than yesterday (and less than tomorrow)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elospock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elospock/gifts).



> The title is a line by French poet and playwright Rosemonde Gérard, and I know this quote because a kpop stan tweeted it to their faves and they read it to their fans during their online concert.
> 
>   
> Car, vois-tu, chaque jour je t’aime davantage, (For, you see, each day I love you more,)
> 
> Aujourd’hui plus qu’hier et bien moins que demain. (Today more than yesterday and less than tomorrow.)
> 
> Thank you to [Wishopenastar](/users/Wishopenastar) for betaing this! I love you.

Everything goes full circle.

At work, in the liminal spaces in time between customers and unfriendly coworkers, Therese had liked to watch the little trains, going on and on, never tired of the same turns, the same little fake trees, the ever repeating circle. Sometimes, Therese thought that people weren’t very different from those trains. But then again, maybe she just thought so because working in customer service was exhausting.

When Therese looked at her work for the newspaper, the way her pictures captured strangers and friends alike, she realised that maybe, just maybe, people were so caught up in their circles that they didn’t notice the world around them shifting, didn’t notice themselves shifting with it. The end of a circle may feel like a step back in time, but to Therese it meant the beginning of something new.

She smiled at the collection of lighter and darker greys in her hands. This particular picture had finished developing only a few days ago.

The picture showed hands, intertwined, on top of wrinkled fabric that may be a skirt or a blanket. One was unmistakably Therese’s own hand, but it was the second hand that always captured her attention. Just a bit wider than her own, stronger, with short manicured nails. A thin bracelet around the wrist, almost sparkling, and no ring.

Therese smiled. She carefully traced Carol’s hand with her fingertips.

“Darling?” Carol’s voice filtered through the apartment, keys jingling. The front door clicked shut. “You’re already here?”

It had been a few months since Carol gave Therese a key to her apartment, and Therese had never before made use of it.

Even though Carol had suggested it often, the spring after they had met, Therese had been firm in her decision to live separately.  _ I have to get to know myself, learn to love myself, _ Therese had explained more than once and eventually Carol had accepted that, though not without gifting Therese a key to her own apartment.

Therese softly closed the lid on the box, hastily wrapping a long piece of shiny fabric around it and tying it into a bow. “I’m in the kitchen!”

Carol appeared in the door not a second later, a small smile on her lips and a question in her eyes. “You’re here.”

“I…” Therese stood, her chair making a scrunchy sound as it scraped over the floor. “I got you a present.”

“You didn’t have to,” Carol murmured, fully stepping into the room and reaching for Therese’s hands. Her eyes never leaving Therese’s, she brought their hands to her lips and kissed Therese’s knuckles. “But thank you.”

Therese’s eyes fluttered close. For a moment she lost herself in the feeling of warm lips on her fingers, Carol’s familiar hands in hers. “I love you,” she whispered, careful to not break their quiet bubble.

Through the kitchen window, the sounds of the street filtered in. A car horn blared, people’s voices merged into a singular background noise but here Therese was, looking up into the eyes of the woman she loved. Carol had always been beautiful. Therese thought she would never want to stop looking at her.

Christmas was nearly here again, and the first snow had fallen and melted just days ago. And Therese - Therese knew she was younger than Carol, but this year had been - good. She was certain Carol shared this feeling, but she knew that things were more complicated than Carol liked to admit. Carol's ex husband, while never friendly, allowed Carol to see her daughter, and had even mentioned that Therese could visit, too. Therese had tried to avoid thinking about it, but really - how could she not think about it?

“I love you too,” Carol whispered back, “so much.”

“Open the present,” Therese said, bringing both their attention to the hastily wrapped light brown wooden box on the table.

They sat across from each other, Carol linking her fingers with Therese with one hand and clumsily struggling to open the tie with her other. Therese pressed her lips together to keep from laughing, a warm feeling spreading through her chest, filling her up and threatening to spill into the room. Therese settled on a wide smile.

Patiently, Carol finally unwrapped the box and slowly lifted the lid. Her eyes softened immediately, and Therese itched to trace the hint of a smile on Carol’s face with her fingertips.

“This is…” Carol swallowed, and looked up from the picture of their intertwined hands. “You’ve always been shy with your work.”

Therese nodded. “I thought we could, maybe, frame them and hang them up? Your walls are still so bare.”

Carol tightened her grip on Therese’s hand. “Yes, love. Absolutely,” she blinked a few times, “with everything that happened in our lives, it slipped my mind.”

“Go on, then,” Therese squeezed back. “See if you like the other pictures as well.”

The next picture was one Therese had made last year, Carol in the process of buying a tree, her hair flipping in the wind. The next was made on their first road trip; it was simple in a way. Just the road, and the sky, and the clouds that wandered with the wind. Therese had felt she understood.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/160753123@N04/50730909882/in/album-72157717388173947/)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/160753123@N04/50730910147/in/album-72157717388173947/)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/160753123@N04/50730910082/in/album-72157717388173947/)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/160753123@N04/50730083763/in/album-72157717388173947/)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/160753123@N04/50730909887/in/album-72157717388173947/)

There were many pictures, and Therese had done her best to only choose pictures that she thought would appeal to Carol and herself. There were pictures of Carol when they went on dates, of graffiti sprayed onto walls, even one of a pigeon sitting on a street light, framed by the towers of an old church.

A tiny weed which did its best to survive in a crack in the wall. Fireworks in the sky.

And in the middle of it all was Carol.

“Come on,” Carol said, voice deep and cracking. “I need to hug you.”

Therese rounded the table, relaxing in her lover’s lap, wrapping her arms around her.

“Does this mean you want to move in with me? Does this mean,” Carol’s breath hitched, “what I think it means?”

“What do you think it means?” Therese murmured, pressing her lips to the spot under Carol’s ear.

“Move in with me.” Carol held her breath.

“I will. I know what I want now,” Therese said, from her spot in carol’s arms. It was true. Her life would never be like she'd thought it would be, but she had hopes that she would continue to be happy, right here, with Carol. “Can I meet your daughter someday?”

“Yes,” Carol answered.

**Author's Note:**

> The pictures are my own, and they're not New York in the fifties, but rather taken some time between 2017 and 2019, in Austria and Italy.
> 
> Thank you for reading ((⚆·̫⚆‧̣̥̇ ))
> 
> Socials:  
> My [tumblr.](https://thespacebetweenworlds.tumblr.com/)  
> My [instagram.](https://www.instagram.com/tinystreetlamp/)


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